The second I slugged back through my front door at 08:00am, I knew I had to quit.
The night before, I called an Uber for 9pm, a feeling extremely foreign to me. My typical routine on cold November nights was to hunker down at dusk, slip into pyjamas and find something cozy to do with minimal/no contact with the outside world.
Hibernating, I believe it’s called.
But tonight I’d be out until the next morning. Work had been quiet and dull, so I’d found some project’s on the side. ‘PRODUCER WANTED’ the Facebook ad was titled. The idea of jumping into an external project excited me; maybe I’d make some connections, meet new creatives, grow my network. So I took the underpaid role. How bad could it be?
The project details were vague, but they essentially needed someone organised. I'm creative at heart but believe to truly be a good Producer you must balance your left, logical brain with it’s right, creative counterpart. I’ve spent years perfecting that balance and was confident I could do the job.
The problem is, no matter your skill set or intentions, there is only so much you can do for some people. The man 'in charge’, let's call him … Dougie ... was your typical late-40s, over-weight, white, eccentric, fast-talking artist with ounces of passion and zero answers.
Signing onto the project, we had six days of pre-production (AKA, planning time) before we shot. Whenever myself or the crew went to Dougie with questions, we were met with an array of nothing responses: “I won’t know until I see it … let's just try all options … we’ll just run it both ways ... I really can't think about that right now.”
Look. Directors are entitled to experiment. The are allowed to not have all the answers. But they need to have some answers. Being a good director isn’t about shouting or telling people what to do. It’s about clear communication and a strong vision. Within 30 minutes on set, it was clear Dougie had neither.
The first red flag of the night was Dougie’s assistant…erm…Jane, lets call her. Jane and her team were an hour ahead of schedule to 'dress the scene' (moving some chairs, and placing some candles and table clothes) and yet she seemed frantic. Scared. This was being treated as a gargantuan task, and for some reason took 90 minutes. Why was she so…shaken?
Needless to say, we powered on. The rest of the crew arrived; the camera team, the soundie, the makeup artist and Dianne, our costume lead. All was set-up and (I crossed my fingers) on time to grab the first shot. Jane’s team nervously pinned the final fairy lights to the set as Dougie stormed around the corner towards the costume department.
Then came red flag number 2. A screaming fit. The camera team and I carried on, our eyes peering over to try and source what was going on. For 30-Minutes we were clueless. Unsure and on edge. Dougie stormed from around the corner, shaking his head, hands on his hips as he whispered to whoever was nearby, angrily monologuing for 5-minutes and then moving onto the next person, seemingly to say the exact same thing.
He eventually reached me. “Unbelievable,” he spat red faced. “It’s totally wrong. She got it totally wrong. I asked for options and she brought me nothing.” He carried on, raising his arms as if the world was ending and I listened to him loudly complain about how Dianne had brought the wrong type of face masks. “It’s going to ruin the entire film.”
I nodded silently (as is the job of a good Producer to their neurotic Director) but internally I couldn’t help but think, really dude? If the entire success of your film rests on what face masks you’re wear then I think you’re missing something - Oh yes, small detail to include, Dougie was also starring in the film as the romantic lead - red flag number three!
The concept of the film was a bit ‘quirky’ and to be honest doesn’t matter so I’ll spare you the details, but unfortunately the red flags just kept coming.
Dougie would get increasingly angry at the delays, and loudly gossip/bitch about what was going wrong within said crew’s ear shot. Red flag four.
Dougie would disappear for a walk then return to declared, “I’m fine, I had a walk and a swig of Rum and know what to do now.” Alas, he did not know what to do. Red flag five.
Dougie would finally sit on camera and when I asked about schedules/starting to film, announced, “Any way I could get a real water instead of serving me and everyone this fucking tap water.” Red flag six…seven…eight maybe?
Honestly, at that point I’d lost count. By now, it was 2.30am and we were 3-Hours behind schedule. An extra had dropped out last minute so I placed myself in the background of a shot to try and add “as much life in the background as possible” - the one direction I’d actually gotten from Dougie in preparation. Unfortunately, actually following Dougie’s one instruction came back to bite me as I was then dragged out the shot by a very fragile Jane.
“We need you out there, you’re too important and it’s all going wrong,” she said. I could now hear there was an alarm going somewhere in the location. Typical. A new problem to sort out. Apparently the alarm was the last straw for the already irritated lead actress, who had been waiting 4-Hours for her first shot of the night, only to now be delayed again. Fair enough, it’s frustrating, but I believe how you handle yourself in stress reveals who you are.
“Who the fuck is project managing this shit show,” she screamed, conveniently as I arrived to ask her and security what was going on. I make it a habit to not share my opinion of actors or actresses’ - most of them are normal, outgoing people; some can be a bit strange; and some are just egotistical narcissistic after attention and looking for any performance. Since the camera’s weren’t rolling, she decided to perform for the crew, storming around outraged and joining Dougie in his ‘whispered’ complaints (probably about me).
The kind but clueless security team did their best to help but it became clear they knew nothing. “Fuck sake,” Dougie groaned, leaving for another walk and possible rum.
It was 04.30am by the time we finally rolled on the first shot; Dougie and the Lead Actress (that bitch doesn't get a fake name!) admittedly had to struggle to give their best performances while the alarm beeps every 10 seconds.
The patient camera team worked the best magic they could for the 90-minutes we managed to get some takes before 06.00am when we had to stop, pack-up and be out by 07.00am. The hour of clean up seemed to last as long as the night itself; everyone tired and trying to help, clearing what they could and inevitably putting it in the wrong place; Dougie misplacing where he’d placed the location owners keys 8-Hour prior when he had a clear, rum-free mind.
In the midst of the chaos was poor Jane. As Dougie’s assistant, and having been on the project longer than 6x days, Jane unfortunately had become the ‘go-to-answer-girl’ as Dougie was clearly useless and was too busy storming off in tantrums to help. Which mean everyone’s questions went to poor, teary eyed, exhausted Jane.
I tried as best I could to give out small tasks to do, get extras off-set and heading home, take the camera’s teams bags outside ready for taxis, but questions inevitably ended up back with Jane. “Just get out,” I said, “there’s nothing more to do tonight, nothing to talk about, we pack up and come back to do more tomorrow. Let's just go.”
I grabbed her bags and steered her out towards her car. I could tell she wanted to cry. We’d all been thrown in the deep end, but her the most. She just needed to get home. We almost made it to the car without interruption before Dougie appeared. He was going through the remaining crew giving individual monologues mixed with motivation, accusations and complete gibberish.
I did my best to avoid him, too tired to deal with him but heading to my uber he caught me before I could escape. He stepping in, extremely close, taking my hands forcefully. His eyes were black. He stared, unable or unwilling to blink as his hoarse voice loudly announced to me and all the remaining crew, “I know you feel responsible for all that, I know you do and you must feel shit right now and it was, it was a shit show, but let's just talk it out and…and tomorrow…tomorrow you can get it right and we’ll…”
He carried on for a few minutes but from there I totally tuned out. My face was frozen. Unreactive but stern, I could feel it. Wow.
Outside of his reactive behaviour, the location delays, the costume miscommunications…he had chosen to end the night and let me know that all this was my ‘responsibility’. Rather than self-reflect on his words, his drinking, his gossiping he instead chose to let everyone else know how they’d fuck up. How they’d ruined the night or caused delays or let the team down.
That was the cherry on the cake. I told him to just go home and it would be figured out tomorrow, unable to look at him a second longer.
I jumped in an Uber and exhaled with relief as it pulled away. What had just happened? Why had I just spent 9-Hours doing that? I turned Dianne as we’d decided to share a taxi and we let it rip. “What a shit show of man,” she half-laughed, half-cried. I took great comfort hearing that she too felt the problems stemmed from Dougie. She and I discussed pros and cons of walking away, but she’d already sunk £300 of her own money into the project. She was trapped. I however was only obliged through principle.
I had every intention of returning to the trenches. I hate the idea of leaving people behind. I always want to help if I can and find a silver lining, but as I dragged my bags up the drive and finally closed my front door behind me this morning, I felt my body relax the second the lock clicked to a close. It was the feeling of safety. A feeling I’d not had all night. I am not easily broken. I have never quit before finishing a project before, but in my last 10-years working in film I’ve learnt a lot about sacrifice, and Dougie was not worth it.
I knew I wouldn’t be leaving through the door again. Not for this project. Not for Dougie. The very thought of it made my chest tighten. This was not normal for me. I am a good producer, a good planner, a good communicator - but what can you do when the Titanic is already half under?
So I quit.
I wrote out a long email, stern but fair, recounting elements of the night that weren’t professional, should have been planned and could have been avoided. I had no skin in this game. I’d known these people for a week and in that time learned all I needed to know. I sent it out and turned off my phone. I didn’t want Dougie trying to talk me back into it. I just needed to step away.
My only regret is knowing I could do nothing for the people who were stuck. Those who’d spent their own money for this man. Those who had rented kit for the whole project. And especially Jane, who I should have known was in too deep from day one.
I sent her a private message a few days later when I knew filming was done. Maybe it was an overstep, but I wanted her to know she too had the option to quit. She did not need to be tied to Dougie.
As of today, Dougie has contacted me several time with production questions and with no sense or understanding as to why I quit. Jane has listened to my voice note and reacted with a heart, but no reply.
Dianne did however message me, we've stayed in touch as I wanted to know how she was. After night two the shoot was still a shit show, but my actions had seemingly humbled Dougie. While still useless and rude, he was perhaps 5% less asshole to her and the rest of the team and no confessions of rum as it stands.
So there you have it.
Sometimes it feels shit, wrong or like a failure to quit.
But it just might humble a privileged, eccentric asshole.